


Suddenly Someone

by soliloquize



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, F/F, also theyre gay so, and they thrive on it, i love ron weasley but we can all agree he was kinda a dick to lavender right, listen you know parvati and lavender are Those Bitches in the drama club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 09:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12454797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soliloquize/pseuds/soliloquize
Summary: Two drama queens, science homework, tech week, a clueless boyfriend, an understudy scandal, some schnapps, and being there for each other no matter what





	Suddenly Someone

**Author's Note:**

> born very much from my nostalgia about my own theatre kid days and this gorgeous fanart:  
> http://peterpettgrw.tumblr.com/post/146627224577/meabhd-dont-try-and-tell-me-lavender-and
> 
> The show they're putting on is Little Shop of Horrors, which I also do not have any rights too, but there's a character that's literally a plant and it gave me joy to cast Neville in that role so

                “I am going to die.”

                Lavender collapsed face down on the pile of blankets that were an absolute necessity for surviving the first full tech run of any show.  They were at hour four and counting of rehearsal and hadn’t even made it to the second act.

                “That’ll make Vane happy,” Parvati said with little sympathy.

                “Like I would let that bitch perform my role.”

                “At least then you wouldn’t have to kiss Seamus.”

                “Oh, god,” Lavender hid her face in the Snuggie she’d bought ironically.  “That would almost be worth it.  I still can’t imagine what Trelawney was thinking, casting him as the romantic lead.”  Really, there was a reason she’d never let their relationship go any farther than a date to sophomore homecoming and a pity kiss after her third Jell-O shot at the after party.  “The boy has about as much romantic ability as a dead badger.”

                Parvati snorted, even though it was a conversation they’d been rehashing since the cast list went up after winter break.  Pleased by the reaction, Lavender rolled over into Parvati’s lap.  Her friend gave a disgruntled squawk. 

“Excuse you!”

                “Please, you know you love me.”  She didn’t have to look at Parvati to know she was rolling her eyes, but Lavender knew she’d won anyway when Parvati started playing with her hair.  Not that she’d been worried about rejection—she and Parvati were bitchy drama queens, sure, but they were ride or die with each other. 

                “That was a lovely try,” Trelawney called from the front of the auditorium.  Lavender giggled, imagining the tech director’s face at such a comment—Trelawney and Firenze were the most passive aggressive people she’d ever met, including her mother, which was saying something.

                “God, is it so hard to play a sound effect on cue?” Parvati complained.  “I swear to god this is the tenth time we’ve run this scene.”  Her exasperation was clearly mirrored by Seamus and Draco onstage.

                “Honestly, let them.  As soon as we get to Act Two I have to do ‘Suddenly Seymour’, and I am just too fucking dead to belt right now.”  Lavender wondered what the odds were of Ron actually showing up with Starbucks if she texted him to ask for coffee.  They were lower than she’d like them to be, for sure; her boyfriend was many things, but he was not known for his attentiveness.

                “Mark it, honestly, it’s just tech.”

                “And you’ll be half-assing all your dances, right?” The question dripped sarcasm—Lavender knew full well the day Parvati did not dance to the absolute best of her ability was the day she died.

                “Somebody’s got to show the freshmen how it’s done.”

                “Demelza’s not bad.  She puts in the work, at least.”

                “Whereas Draco barely fucking shows up.”

                “He doesn’t have to reach far to play the douche, does he?”

                “Typecasting at its finest.”

                “Do you think he’s gay?” Lavender asked idly.  “He’s always watching Harry in chem.”

                “Nah, Parkinson has him wrapped around her finger.  Have you ever seen them out together?  He’s fucking whipped.”

                Lavender giggled.  “I wish Ron were a little more whipped.”

                “Yeah?”  Parvati’s fingers were well tangled in Lavender’s hair and began to massage her scalp.

                “Well… not really.”  Lavender closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, taking comfort in the closeness of her best friend.  “I just feel like he doesn’t even like me much.  Like we’re only together to snog.”

                “You could always break up with him.  I guarantee you could find a better snog.”

                “It’s not about the snogging.  I want him to actually care about me.  Or like, at least pretend to once in a while.”

                Parvati’s gentle tone told Lavender she wasn’t fooled by the flippant tone.  “Babe, listen.  You’re way out of his league, and if he’s too stupid to see what he has, it is totally his loss.”

                “Mmm, thanks, Par.”  She laced her fingers with Parvati’s only to have the peaceful moment shattered by Trelawney’s piercing demand to change scenes.

                “I have to go dance now.”

                “No,” Lavender pouted, but she sat up so Parvati could throw on her shoes and jog to the stage. Neville, also taking a break out in the auditorium, tripped going up the stairs to the stage, and Lavender thanked whatever deity was listening that he didn’t actually have to do choreography as Audrey II.  She’d seen this dance plenty of times—from Parvati dancing around in her underwear trying to figure out the choreography to the whole shebang up on stage—so she pulled out her phone to text Ron.

                **From:  Lavender Brown**

**To: Won-won <3333**

**1:21 p.m.**

_Hey baby, what’s up?_

                Knowing better than to stare at the phone waiting for his reply, Lavender stole Parvati’s hand mirror to check her makeup (which had survived the first half of rehearsal better than she herself had-- thank god for Laura Mercier’s setting powder) and hair (which was a goddamn mess, and she really needed to cut it or cornrow it or something because it was always everywhere).  She settled for wrestling it into a ponytail and putting on her own shoes in preparation for her next scene.

                Ron hadn’t texted back by the time she was called up onstage, but she absolutely slayed her ballad—Trelawney was beaming at her, and she could see Miss Burbage clapping from the pit.  Romilda Vane go on for her?  _Bitch, please_.

               

                Hell week was the only time Parvati wore sweatpants in public, no exceptions.  Even to dance class, she wore shorts or nothing over her tights.  But as Lavender was fond of saying over a cup of coffee paler than Seamus, hell week was not meant for looking good.  Hell week was for surviving by whatever means necessary.

                Even by sweatpants.

                But even sweatpants couldn’t lessen the torture of first period physics.  Parvati did the weary math in her head—between the end of last night’s rehearsal and sitting down at her desk this morning, she’d been away from the school for less than seven hours.  (Well, okay.  She’d still been _at_ school, technically the dorms were part of campus, but not in the school proper.)

                “Homework first, please,” McGonagall said right as the bell rang.  If ever given the opportunity, Parvati doubted she could pick their teacher out of a lineup of navy admirals. 

                “Miss Patil?”  Parvati handed over the half assed worksheet she’d done backstage last night, knowing she’d be lucky to get credit for any of it and not caring in the least.  She could see Seamus slumped over on his desk out of the corner of her eye, which honestly did not sound like the worst idea in the world at the moment.  Instead, she leaned her head on Lavender’s shoulder for a beat.  She smelled great this morning, like she’d actually showered, the overachiever. 

                “I hate physics,” Lavender muttered, garbling the words in an attempt to keep her lips from moving, though not much.  They had perfected the skills of covert communication through years of practice.

                “Not as much as your boyfriend.”  Parvati lifted her head and nodded across the room to where Ron was looking with considerable dismay at his bent protractor. 

                “Yes, shared academic shortcomings are what all the great love stories are based on.”

                “When is he coming to see the show?”

                “He doesn’t know, I think Harry is holding practice all this week.”

                “Seriously?  What a douchehead jock.”

                “Their season literally hasn’t even started, but God fucking forbid any of them think about anything but fucking football.”

                “I’m sure he’ll find time to come,” Parvati reassured her by rote.  They’d been having the “Ron doesn’t like me enough” talk at least every other week for the past year, before Lavender had even gotten together with him.  Parvati was of the firm opinion that if Lavender was this unsure of her relationship, she should just end it and find someone better, though she was completely out of the league of any of the boys at their school.

                Boys were rarely worth it, Parvati had found.  She’d gone to homecoming once with Harry because he was the only Indian kid in their grade besides her and Padma and she figured her parents would put up less of a fight than if she’d tried to go with a white boy.  Or a girl.  But it hadn’t been what she would call a wildly successful date.

                Dating was not Parvati’s thing in general.  Parties were fun enough single, and when she didn’t want to go to something alone, she could always hit Lavender up to come along.  You know, during that one week a year after her fall dance show and before rehearsals for the spring musical where she actually had time for a social life.

                At least she had the cast party to look forward to Saturday night.  No matter how much she loved it, the school musical always left her completely burnt out and unwilling to do anything except consume alcohol.  Luckily the prefects didn’t patrol the basement of the girls’ dorm, so they could throw a rager for the cast and the lucky pit and crew members who had enough of an in.

                It was crazy that they only had one dress rehearsal left, though.  Happy anticipation aside, Parvati felt the stress of opening night looming, and rather than listen to McGonagall prattle on about Newton’s Laws, Parvati counted eights in her head, thinking her way through each dance.  One dress rehearsal and the preview they always did for the school, that was it.

                _Five, six, seven, eight_.

 

                The world was ending. 

Lavender had coughed her way through warm ups and by the time they got to Act Two, her voice was cracking every time she went above a G.  Parvati was shooting her worried looks, and Seamus actually winced during their last duet.

 _Can’t cry, that will only make it worse_ , Lavender told herself fiercely, though she still didn’t know what would make it better.  The fire creeping down her throat refused to be quenched no matter how much tea she drank. 

Lavender knew she tended to the dramatic, but when theater is your world, a sore throat for final dress is Armageddon. 

“Lavender, darling, a word?” Trelawney said in swooping tones, dismissing the rest of the cast to change. 

“I’m fine, Professor, really.”

“Now my dear, we all know a bad last dress means a good show, but it’s hard to work around a lead with no voice.”  She enveloped Lavender’s shoulder with her heavily shawled arm, an attempt at comfort.

“I just need some rest tonight.  I can still perform, you know I can.”        

“Of course I believe in you, darling, but I think it really would be better if we let Romilda perform the preview tomorrow.”

“Professor, I’ve worked so hard—“

“And we want our audiences to see that, not some hopeless girl with laryngitis,” Trelawney snapped.  “It’s only the preview, to give you a chance to rest up for the real shows.”

Lavender tried to turn her glower into a more cajoling pout.  “Professor, she’s never even gone on for a full rehearsal.”

“Then we better make sure she only has to perform in the preview, and not in the show, hm?”  Before Lavender could protest again, Trelawney had snapped close the carpetbag that served as her briefcase and turned to go.  “Rest up, my dear, and I will see you tomorrow.”

Lavender sent Parvati as many crying emojis as could fit in one text message, and found her waiting outside the dressing room to walk to the dorms together.

“She’s letting fucking Romilda Vane go on for me tomorrow,” Lavender said softly, still determined not to cry.  Parvati immediately pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair as Lavender buried her face in Parvati’s shoulder.  They stood like that until Lavender’s hands stopped shaking from frustration and a mixture of exhaustion and affection for her best friend started creeping in instead.

“Let’s get you some rest, yeah?” Parvati said eventually.  It was so warm and comforting in Parvati’s arms that Lavender would have been happy to let Parvati hold her forever, but she was right.  Sleep was important. 

Their fingers stayed interlaced on the way to the dorms, and there was something in Parvati’s dark eyes that made Lavender reluctant to separate to go to her own room.

“You good?”

Lavender felt herself blush, knowing she’d spent too long in the hallway outside her room staring at Parvati, though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt self-conscious in front of Parvati.

“Just zoned out.  Love ya, bitch.”  Lavender forced herself to turn and unlock her door.

“Night, slut.”

Lavender brushed her teeth and changed into pajamas and got into bed without touching her hair, which she would definitely regret in the morning.  She didn’t text Ron because she didn’t feel like dealing with his mixed signals (honestly, how can you even give mixed signals when you’re in a defined relationship with the other person?).  She alternated between imagining surgically removing Romilda Vane’s vocal chords and trying to recreate the feeling of Parvati’s hug as she drifted off to sleep.

 

                Parvati watched Romilda do mic check.  Her voice cracked when she tried to belt, and sure it was early, but Parvati still snorted loudly on Lavender’s behalf.  Lavender was relegated to wandering around backstage for the preview show they always put on for senior community members and some faculty like some sort of sad silent ghost, and Parvati wondered if it would be too catty to tell Romilda “good luck” instead of “break a leg.”  Alternately, Parvati could _actually_ break her leg.

                If it wouldn’t impact the show as a whole, Parvati probably would.  But Vane wasn’t worth it.  Besides, Lavender would come off her day of rest ready to slay the opening night show and nobody would even remember Romilda’s performance. 

                They had a solid run, Romilda chickened out of belting for the actual show, she and Seamus had the most awkward stage kiss Parvati had ever seen, and she was confident that her prediction of Romilda’s utterly forgettable one night engagement would come to pass without revision.

                She was mostly right.

                “Lavender!”  Ronald was waiting for them (well, Lavender) as they walked out of the dressing room after the show.  Parvati actually rolled her eyes; apparently he was trying to play the good boyfriend today, but he was always kind of a scrub. 

                “Won-Won!”  Lavender hugged him, thankfully without a snog to go with.

                “Babe, I didn’t know if I was going to be able to see the show, but I decided to cut Snape’s class ‘cause that’s no big loss, so I caught almost all of it this morning, and you were great!  You’re singing is really, er, brilliant.”

                Parvati was snorting at his limited jock vocabulary before her brain caught up and actually processed what he was saying.

                “My singing.  Was brilliant.  This _morning_?”

                “Yeah?” Ron said nervously.  Parvati just gaped; this was easily the biggest trainwreck she’d ever witnessed in her life.  “That song you sang about Seward or whatever the bloke’s name was?”

                “You fucking prat,” Parvati said, still a little too disbelieving to be properly enraged on Lavender’s behalf.  “She didn’t go on this morning.  Romilda Vane was the lead because Lavender has laryngitis.  Which is why I’m yelling at you on her behalf because she has better things to do than waste her voice and her breath on someone as inconsiderate as you!”

                As a rule, Parvati didn’t yell.  She wasn’t brought up that way.  But holy shit, she was not going to let this asshat get away with treating her best friend like that.  Lavender deserved the world and he was over here offering her handfuls of dirt.

                “I’m sorry, I was in the back of the auditorium, I didn’t know—“

                “If you were remotely involved in her life beyond just hitting her up for a snog when you get tired of pining after Hermione fucking Granger, you would have known she was sick.  If you ever listened to her instead of just groping her in semi public places, you would be able to recognize your own girlfriend’s _voice_.”

                “Now that’s unfair!” Ron said, and he clearly had no qualms about shouting.

                “Well it is a bit inaccurate,” Lavender whispered.  “’Cause I don’t know what I am to you, but I’m sure as fuck not your girlfriend after all that.”

                She grabbed Parvati’s hand and squeezed, and Parvati pulled her away from Ron and around the corner before gathering her into a hug.

                “Don’t cry you’ll hurt your voice more,” Parvati whispered.  “He’s a bastard, and you’ve always deserved better, and you got to fucking wreck him just there.  And I’m here for you.”

                Lavender nodded against her shoulder, but Parvati could feel the tears soaking through her T-shirt. 

                “I’ve got you, babe.  I’m here.”  Parvati repeated it over and over until Lavender stopped shaking and simply nuzzled into Parvati’s shoulder and that—that made Parvati feel a whole lot more than simple hurt and anger on her friend’s behalf.  But now wasn’t the time to think about it.  “Let’s go back to my room, okay?  I’ve got some face masks and good tea and we can self-love the shit out of ourselves.  And once the show’s over we can get well and truly pissed on the rest of that peach schnapps I know you’ve been hiding.  Okay?  The best revenge is going to be to show him you never needed his sorry arse.”

                “You’re right.”  Lavender’s voice didn’t shake, but her usual sharp edge was dulled.  “I never needed him.  I’ve got you.”

 

 

                They got a standing ovation all three nights.

                Lavender went those three days without acknowledging the existence of either Romilda or Ron.  Parvati suggested they sneak backstage to eat lunch the day they walked into the cafeteria and Ron was bent close enough to Hermione to practically smell her hair, but Lavender wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.  Not that he was capable of noticing anything outside of himself.

                “Apparently he has a type,” she quipped to Parvati as they left for class, and yes it was bitter, but she certainly had the right to be bitter after her week.

                “I don’t normally support women tearing other women down, but you’re objectively prettier than she is.”

                “I’m not saying anything about Hermione except it was a bit pathetic to watch her pine this whole year.”

 

                Even spite could only fuel Lavender for so long.  Everything about the week had been exhausting, and she’d powered through for the sake of the show, but now that she was back in her dressing room and taking her mic off for the last time, she could feel the emotions bubbling.

                “There you are.  Come on, bitch, time to go greet your adoring fans.”

                “My number one fan is right here.”

                Even rolling her eyes, Parvati was unfairly good-looking.  Her hair was back in a messy braid, with dark wisps floating around her face, and Lavender could see slight sweat tracks in her stage makeup. _She’s beautiful._   It wasn’t a new thought, but there was a sense of awe or—or _something_ that Lavender never remembered feeling, towards Parvati or anyone else.

                Lavender shook herself and grabbed Parvati’s hand.  “How soon ‘til we can escape to go get absolutely smashed?”

                “There’s the girl I know and love.”

               

                The cast party was its typical loud, poorly-lit self.  Everybody was drunk and sitting in someone else’s lap, and trying to be the center of attention at the same time. 

                “Alcohol makes ev’ryone a star,” Seamus slurred as he passed the corner where Parvati and Lavender were sitting, appraising the party and passing Parvati’s flask back and forth, rather than risk whatever punch Luna had concocted. 

                “You’re Irish, Seamus, you shouldn’t be such a fucking lightweight,” Lavender called after him as he stumbled into Dean.

                “I think he’s faking it for the benefits.”  Parvati nodded meaningfully at the way Seamus was now pressed up against their set designer’s chest.  Lavender compared their position to her own—legs tangled with Parvati’s with her head gently resting on Lavender’s shoulder.  It was warm and easy and comfortable, the way most things were between them, and the buzz from the schnapps wasn’t hurting anything either.

                “Like he still needs to be playing games with that boy.  They’re so obviously interested in each other.”

                “Oh, you mean bent all the way at the waist _isn’t_ the best way to paint the bottom of a wall?”

                “I mean you can’t blame Dean for showing off that arse.”

                “You think he has a good arse?” 

                Lavender looked down at Parvati, surprised at the tone, more surprised when Parvati looked embarrassed at the question.  On impulse Lavender put her arm around Parvati—to reassure her.  She relaxed into it, and Lavender felt a sudden wave of something that had to be tipsiness because there was no other easy explanation for her light headedness right now.

                “I mean I’m not blind.  But don’t worry, you still have the best arse of anyone I know.”

                “You think?”

                The question was quiet, and Parvati wasn’t meeting her eyes, so she took her other hand and gently tilted Parvati’s face up and her skin was so soft and her eyes were so deep brown and beautiful.

                Lavender leaned down and kissed her.  For a wonderful second it was just sensation—lips brushing, parting, sighing—and then her thoughts caught up to her.  Was this allowed?  What was she even _doing_?

  Lavender pulled back from the kiss and peered through her lashes at Parvati, trying to assess the situation.  It was… unexpected, she supposed.  If anyone had ever asked her “do you want to kiss Parvati?” she would have rolled her eyes and assumed that some tosser just wanted to watch them make out.  But when she’d actually _done_ it, and god knows why she’d acted on the impulse, it hadn’t felt dirty or awkward or dangerous.  It was easy, like, shockingly easy.  A natural extension of their cuddling and familiar caresses. 

                She did it again.  Parvati’s lips were warm and so soft, so impossibly soft.  All Lavender did was brush her lips against Parvati’s, and every nerve in her body began to glow.  She brought her hand up to tuck Parvati’s hair behind her ear, keeping her touch as feather light as the kiss, until Parvati, losing patience, swung a leg over so she was straddling Lavender, and _shit_ —

                This was not easy.  This was electric.  This was awe and shock and the complete absence of rational thought, like standing in the middle of an ice-cold waterfall.  Lavender shivered, her hands falling to Parvati’s waist, holding her close even though there was no space between them (Lavender was beginning to wonder if there ever had been).

                Then her tongue was in Parvati’s mouth and her shirt was riding up with the help of Parvati’s graceful fingers and she was losing her goddamn mind.  Parvati tasted like peaches and salt and her mouth was so warm, Lavender hated to leave it, but when their noses bumped together, she _had_ to kiss Parvati’s nose instead, right on the tip, and Parvati always said how big it was, but Lavender didn’t know what she was talking about, it was perfect, she was perfect, this moment was perfect.

                “Lavender,” Parvati gasped.  “Is this—“

                “Is this what?”  Lavender whispered in her ear.  And then, since her mouth was already there, she gently tugged on the lobe with her teeth.  Parvati whimpered, sweet and clear, a little silver bell of passion.  “What were you saying?” Her hands slid down to Parvati’s ass as she sucked right at the spot where her ear met her face.

                “I hate you,” Parvati ground out as her hands creeped up Lavender’s stomach in revenge, grinding down with her hips at the same time.

                “Is that right, bitch?”  It did not come out half as scathing as Lavender meant it to, though it had to be impressive that she was still capable of forming words at all, with Parvati on top of her like this, with her hands tracing the curve of Parvati’s ass, god, dancers had such gorgeous asses.

                “Yeah,” Parvati said and one of them was moaning and it was probably Lavender because Parvati’s mouth was busy now, sucking at her neck, flicking her tongue out at tantalizing intervals.  She _really_ hoped she wasn’t wearing any underwear she cared about ruining.

                “Oh my god—oh _fuck_ , Par.”  Parvati ground down again, and Lavender squirmed under her, just barely aware enough to remember they were still in a room full of people.  They definitely weren’t the only ones making out, but Lavender had some dignity.

                “Will you come back to my room?”  Parvati asked, biting her lip in a way that probably meant she was worried what Lavender would say, but ended up looking like the sexiest fucking thing Lavender had ever seen.

                “Yes, fuck yes.”

                They walked out of the party with their arms around each other—nothing out of the ordinary for them, honestly, and Lavender was quickly wondering how it had taken her this long to have some idea that she and Parvati might be more than just friends.

                Parvati’s door slammed, and Parvati slammed Lavender against it seconds later, mouth hot and wet and her hands leaving Lavender far too breathless to share any revelations she may or may not have just had.

                Parvati’s shirt came off one button at a time, then Lavender’s own. Lavender pulled back to catch her breath and instead lost it completely at the sight of Parvati standing in her room, her hair falling out of its ponytail and the strap of her lacy pink bra sliding down her shoulder.

                “God, Parvati, you’re beautiful.”

                “Lavender, are you—are we—“

                “Are we what?” Lavender kissed her neck carefully, not intending to derail the conversation—they had all the time in the _world_ —she just couldn’t help herself.

                “I’m a lesbian.”

                “Okay?”

                “So this isn’t just fooling around or experimenting for me.  It—it means something.”

                “It means something to me too!”  Lavender didn’t really know what exactly it meant, but she wasn’t making out with her best friend just to experiment.  She was a bitch, but not that kind.  Not to Parvati.

                “I didn’t know you were—“

                “I didn’t know _you_ were—“

                “This is why we should always tell each other everything,” Parvati laughed softly.  Lavender grabbed her hand and led her to the bed.

                “Always and forever, bitch.”

               

               

               


End file.
